Coincidence
by DachderWelt
Summary: Saleem is forced to hand over his treasured prisoner to another terror cell. And despite Gibbs' rule, Ziva learns: Coincidences do exist.
1. An unlikely coincidence

**Coincidence**

Another little story about how Somalia could have been.

For all readers of _Of Homes and Families_ I will continue with it, _Coincidence_ is just a short story that came to my mind while writing _Of Homes and Families_. I thought about including it however it has quite different prerequisites so I decided to post it as individual story.

English is not my first language, please forgive spelling mistakes and messing with the tenses.

Warning: Mention of violence, general mistreatment and rape (nothing graphic).

NCIS does not belong to me.

* * *

 _Saleem is forced to hand over his treasured prisoner to another terror cell. And despite Gibbs' rule, Ziva learns: Coincidences do exist._

* * *

 _._

 **Coincidence**

..

There was tumult in the camp one morning. Trapped in a disgusting, stinking, gloomy room Ziva heard shouts, laughter and the unmistakable sound of people loading or unloading a car.

The roaring of engines had woken her just after sunrise. Ziva sat on the ground, her back resting at the wall, eyes on the small rectangular piece of blue sky far above her.

Now she waited. She waited like she did all the time in the previous weeks. Waited for someone to bring food or water, waited for someone to hurt her, to question her and waited for a possibility to fight back. The chances of that were getting slimmer, though. She was week from starvation, from blood loss and dizzy from a concussion she was sure to have received yesterday after she was pissed off and _stupid_ enough to insult Saleem.

Little did she know about the consequences of that day and how it would change her own life – up until now doomed to end in near future by Saleem's fists, boots, gun or knife.

 **oOo**

Ten men, hardened by life and violence had arrived in two pickup trucks, dusty but cheerful and glad to have reached their final destination.

Their leader was greeted by Saleem Ulman and invited inside to a cup of tea and something to eat whereas his men had to look for a shady place outside.

"Have you any idea how long it took us to come here, Saleem? Why do you need to reside in the middle of nowhere?"

Saleem grinned. "I'm deeply saddened by your troubles. Seems like you're getting old… A few years ago, you would've never complained like that."

The other one's laughter sounded like thunder, "be careful or I'll be forced to stop my prayers for your wellbeing." He leaned forward in his chair and said expectantly, "heard about your newest acquisition. Tell me some details?"

"That bitch thought she could sneak into here and kill me. Got captured instead." He smirked triumphantly. "She's strong, I give her that. Lost three men while overpowering her and another two at an escape attempt the first week. Still, she's worth it. You can't imagine that feeling, when I finally got her name out of her. _David_. It was the sweetest sound in ages." His smirk widened while he enjoyed the memory.

"I would've given a lot to witness it! It's good you captured her alive. This will teach Mossad something about meddling with us."

"Does not seem like Daddy Dearest cares about his little officer. If they are not lurking behind the corner that moment they have done nothing to get her back."

"What did you learn beside her identity?"

Saleem shifted uncomfortable. "Not much yet. She's stubborn. Some stuff about an American Navy agency and some about Mossad. Nothing important. And when she _is_ actually speaking I suspect she's mixing up lies and truth intentionally. Because she's contradicting herself. So… that way it's hard to use anything she has said. You know – which part is the truth? But I will break her." The last part he added confidently.

The stranger suddenly looked guilty. "You won't like this but… when Al Hari learned who she is and heard about my visit, he told me to bring her back with me to his place.

Indeed, Saleem did not like this. He was silent, rejecting. Then: "She is my prisoner, Khalid."

"Saleem, be reasonable. With her, Al Hari can achieve much more for our objectives than you can do it here in the desert. You've done a great job when capturing her. He will not forget that."

Saleem only narrowed his eyes in anger.

 **oOo**

Outside Khalid's men were busy gossiping and palavering high-spirited.

Saleem's second in command joined them and shouted: "Who wants to see our prisoner? The little Mossad spy?"

Shouts of approval were the answer – hoots and 'Bring her out!' – and after a few seconds of inciting their anticipation he turned to the building to get her. About half of the men followed him curiously.

He led them to the room they kept her in. Pulling back the deadbolt he forcefully kicked the wooden door open. It banged loudly against the wall, the sound reverberating. Their prisoner sat at the far end of the room, wearing exhaustion like a heavy blanket. Even so, she warily watched them and struggled to come to her feet after she spotted his companions. With a few long strides he had crossed the room and kicked her legs out under her before she stood completely, sending her crashing down on all fours. One hand reached for her shoulder, the other one clawed her hair, he forced her face down to the ground, one arm trapped under her body. Then he shifted and dug his knee into her back, between the shoulder blades. She did not move, did not fight, only the fingers of her free hand flexed and clenched slowly as if reaching for something desperately. He looked over to the spectators, grinning, posing on top of her like he just shot a desert lion. They snickered. He pulled out a piece of rope from his pocket then reconsidered. "One of you can do it," he offered generously.

A tall man in an old greasy military jacket parted first from the group and strode over. He accepted the rope but then stopped, looking down at the prisoner disappointed. "I was told this one is a wildcat." He lightly kicked her in the side, "where's her fire?"

The men outside had not to wait long. Ten minutes after they were offered to see the Israeli spy the group emerged again, half pushing and half dragging a petit woman in battered clothes and skin. She stumbled barefoot on the hot ground, hands bound behind her back, head dropping. Saleem's man stopped in front of the group and enjoyed the attention and the power display at the expense of her dignity. Holding her in place with one hand, he moved the other to her hair and lifted her head, allowing the men free access to her face.

Soon insults and threats were directed at her, even some fists and saliva. The mob was closing around her, scornful, hateful.

She endured it numbly, looking through them without seeing.

 **oOo**

Saleem came to her later the day. He was angry and violent. Finally Ziva concluded from bits and pieces of ranting, swearing and insults that he was forced to give her away. The strangers were to take her back to… – where did they come from?

She hardly slept that night. After he finally left she curled up in the corner and fear settled deeply in her heart. It was horrible here as well but by now it was familiar. Saleem was violent, sure, however his attitude towards her was rather impersonal. Eventually he would lose his patience and kill her and then – finally – it would be over.

A new place, new terrorists would be worse. They would start from the beginning, as enthusiastic as Saleem had been too, but now she was already weak. How could she withstand that again? Also, the strange men today were despising her – _personally_. They were hateful and enjoyed to mock and degrade her, had shouted profanities about Israel and Mossad and about one Eli David. She would be their hostage and leverage, their punching bag for whatever her father or country had done to them.

 **oOo**

Two days later, early morning, ten men and one prisoner left the Somalian camp of Saleem Ulman.

Two of them had had crept into her cell with the first light, insulting and mocking, promising death and pain and blatantly having great pleasure while tying her up. Now Ziva's hand and feet were bound; a sack covered her head, fastened tightly around her neck. They carried her out of the building, dumped her somewhere, only to wrench her up immediately after someone shouted and pressed her down to sit somewhere else. She tried to determine where she was. The smell and the metal indicated a car but she was outside so – maybe the back of a pickup? Other men were moving around her.

She felt weak, hurting and bleeding from several wounds. Saleem had taken his frustration out on her the previous day. He had displayed his usual _I am in control and you are completely and utterly at my mercy so tell me what I want to know_ power play but effectively he'd been helpless and furious about the disregard of his will by the strangers and the degradation in front of his own men. He had punished her in their place and to her loathing looks he had reacted even more short-tempered than usual.

The engine roared to life, the car started moving and she staggered.

Three or four hours later it became almost intolerable. The Somalian sun was strong and became even stronger with each passing minute. Under the black sack it got unbelievable hot. She felt like her head was grilled. Her breaths became labored, dizziness claimed her and she slowly tipped sideward, fell eventually and bumped her head at something metallic.

Mocking laughter answered and snickering continued as she pushed herself up again. Ziva bit on her lip to fight the tears.

The next pothole caused her to lose her balance again but this time she fell in another direction. She jerked as soon as she felt contact with something warm and almost soft – skin. Before she could get away hands closed around her and pressed her closer to the man. "You want to come to me, little princess?" he taunted her. "I'm sure I can arrange that. But we need to wash you first, right now you are too disgusting." With that he pushed her back.

A few minutes later she fell again, this time losing consciousness.

She woke up to cool air and sand underneath her body. Slowly she moved to a more comfortable position, stopping dead as soon as she felt the attention of the men around her shifting. "She's awake," someone stated. Another one removed the bag and tossed her a small water bottle and some rice.

That night she was anxiously waiting if the man from the truck would stay true to his proclamation made previously. Or another one. Every movement around her made her stiffen up under her blanket. The night was cold, and fear never left but finally sleep claimed her exhausted body.

 **oOo**

Over the next two days Ziva's condition got worse.

Khalid was worried for his little prisoner. It was of no use if the Mossad girl died on them before Al Hari got her. The daughter of Eliahu David was too valuable to die.

He ordered a stopover in the next village with some kind of doctor. Here it was a crone at whose door they dropped their prisoner and commanded her to ensure the girl would survive the rest of the journey.

The old woman was named Mariam and she wasn't overly excited, but did not protest.

The strange girl was dirty, feverish, very skinny, had least one broken rib and infected wounds all over her body.

Mariam knew better than to ask questions but after cleaning her up and taking care of the wounds, she could vividly imagine what had happened. Due to her Middle Eastern feature and her general condition including being hold by these sinister men whose appearance screamed 'terrorist' she was either a westernized, run-away daughter of an important extremist or she was Israeli. The latter would mean trouble. Mariam did not like terrorists but was no friend of Israel either. However, if she was not careful she and probably her family as well would be pulverized between the two forces.

So, she cared for the poor girl as well as she could but did not ask her any questions other than medical related and would never tell anyone about it just as the men demanded. The danger of these extremist was more immediate than that of Israel, she decided.

The girl was unconscious or sleeping most of the time on her makeshift bed. When awake, she warily watched Mariam and the three men (lingering in her home, drinking her tea, eating her food, harassing her granddaughters) who were ordered to ensure the girl did not disappear.

After three days Khalid lost his patience and ordered them to go on. Before leaving he threatened the whole village into keeping their mouths shut about their stay.

 **oOo**

Mossad had been informed that a bunch of Hamas terrorists had entered Gaza from Egypt through one of the numerous tunnels in that region the day before. They were suspected to bring bombs or bomb building material, firearms maybe even military weapons. All in all, intel was reliable, danger was imminent and hence they were authorized to lay an ambush.

15 Mossad officers opened fire or watched thorough as their targets, sitting in two transporters and one SUV-like car were close enough. The terrorists had no chance. Drivers and front passengers were dead or injured almost immediately and the rest was overwhelmed quickly. Mossad had a few injured but no casualty.

Amit Hadar wiped sweat from his forehead. Mission accomplished. Now they needed to photograph and take stock of the weapons, clean up, bring the surviving terrorists to headquarters and the dead ones to the morgue. He looked for his protégé Benji and spotted him near the terrorist car, taking pictures.

A minute later his ears picked up Benji's call through all the noise. "Amit! Come quickly!" He sounded upset and nervous.

Amit hurried over. "What is it?"

"Here is a prisoner in the trunk!" He gestured to the car.

Amit looked inside. It was true, a small figure – a woman apparently – in huge, ill-fitting, battered clothes laid on her side in the big trunk, unmoving, feet bound together, hands tied in front and a sack covering the entire head.

Amid reached for her carotid artery, relieved as he felt it pulsing. Then he grabbed the sack, loosened the knot around the neck and pulled it off.

A familiar face.

"Ziva!" He was aghast. "How's that possible…?" His voice broke.

Benji pushed closer "You know her?" He asked dumbfounded, looking down to the unconscious woman.

"You know her too. She is Director David's daughter."

"But she died in Somalia! Months ago!"

"She disappeared, Benji. Death was suspected but never confirmed."

By now other officers had noticed the commotion.

"Hadar! What do you have?"

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I have," Amit answered quietly. Then louder: "Someone call an ambulance. Now! Highest priority!"

"What is it Hadar? HADAR!"

"Ziva David. They have her in here."

The others were thunderstruck. "WHAT?"

Amit gestured to the trunk.

"She's alive…"

* * *

 _Coincidences do exist._

 _Yes, that was my idea. Do you want a second part about how everyone reacts?_

 _Please tell me what you think! And thanks for reading :)  
_


	2. Awakening

_Hey guys! I'm overwhelmed by your reviews and your requests for me to continue!_

 _Thank you **Guest** , **Trine** , **victoriantealady** , **Bkeh** , **DS2010** and **Debbie!**_

 _At first, I planned it as oneshot, then I thought, 'maybe a second part would be nice', to round up the story and give more insight to other characters involved with or affected by what has happened. And your reviews encouraged me to write!_

* * *

.

 **Coincidence**

 **Awakening**

The first time Ziva David woke up she attacked mindlessly everyone close to her. Screaming, punching, kicking – fighting with all she had. Her last memory was of a syringe filled with _something_ piercing her skin and a fist flying towards her head while other hands twisted her arms. Now her arms were free.

When they finally succeeded in sedating her, two nurses and one doctor were injured. Broken nose, dislocated shoulder and a broken arm. Doctor Hanuka couldn't help being impressed of how this broken person had put up a fight. Adrenalin truly was an amazing substance. Nonetheless he ordered to restrain her until they could make her understand that she was in a hospital and there was no need for a fight anymore. Officer David herself had several broken bones including leg and wrist, fighting, especially kicking and punching wouldn't help her recovering.

Eli David was informed of his daughters awakening and he came in later that day, his security detail filling the hospital although Ziva was in an extra secured part of the building herself.

Eli entered her room and instantly fury appeared in his eyes. He turned to the doctor behind him, his voice icy. " _What is the meaning of that?_ " He pointed at the restraints around both her arms and her good leg. Under a heavy blanket of medication Ziva fought unconsciously against the restraints, she pushed and pulled at them weakly in her drug induced sleep, tossing and turning as far as they allowed it.

The doctor swallowed. "Sir, it might look hard, I know – but when she first woke she attacked us, injured three of the staff."

"Take it off her…" Eli read his name plate "… _Dr. Hanuka_ , or I will have you restrained in that _."_

He hurried to obey, removed the offending items and secured the needle of the IV with extra tape.

As soon as her limbs were free, Ziva turned to her side and curled up, her sleep calmer than before.

Eli settled down next to her in a chair and watched his daughter. The broken leg was stretched, the other one pulled up, so it protected her belly, arms in front of her face and around her head. Eli narrowed his eyes at her unconscious protective measures.

He reached for her hand hesitantly. The last time he had hold her hand? He couldn't remember. But here she was, his last child, presumed dead and yet living, given back to him like a gift from heaven. Her chest raised and fell slowly. It was hypnotizing; he did not know how long he just sat there.

Ziva's forehead had displayed a gaping half healed wound which was now covered; her cheeks however were bruised but clear of bandages. He lightly caressed the upper one with his fingers. So lightly it was, Ziva's eyes flew open immediately and her body jerked back, hands coming up. Eli pulled back his fingers slowly, signalizing harmlessness. The monitor behind her reacted to the increased and still accelerating frequency of her heart beat and filled the room with a monotonous fast beeping. Ziva backed off, away from him, her eyes shot around in the room always returning warily to his face and his hands. Finally, she seemed to recognize him and calmed down.

"Ziva." He stated calmly, "How do you feel?"

"Papa?" her voice was hoarse. "What… what happened?" She hardly felt her body, it was all numb. _Painkillers_ , her mind whispered.

"You tell me, Zivaleh." He smiled to make it sound less like an order. "Mossad was ambushing some weapon smuggling Hamas members coming from Egypt and found you in their trunk."

Ziva swallowed and gave up trying to sit up. She was so tired. "You found me… by chance? You… weren't looking for me?"

"It was pure coincidence, yes"

The word sparked a memory. _Gibbs_ … She had forbidden herself to think of them for so long because it hurt too much. But now…

"You weren't looking for me." This time it was an accusation, performed in a weak voice but an accusation nonetheless.

Eli lowered his eyes. "Yes. I'm sorry Ziva."

Again the memory. Rule number… which one was it?

"Why?"

 **oOo**

 _"You know for how long you are here now? She stays silent. "No? Well then my dear Miss David – oh, may I call you Ziva?" He grinned. "It's five weeks now. And no one is coming for you. They left you here to rot, because you're unworthy,_ Zi-va _. Even your own father agrees." His grin is vicious now. "You surely are a smart girl, aren't you? You must have realized no one is coming for a heroic rescue. They have forgotten about you. And you will stay here until you've told me everything. So, let's continue._

She woke up feeling so utterly hopeless.

 **oOo**

 _Beep. Beep. Beep_.

The next time Ziva woke she was confused. Memory came back quickly and this time she was alone so she concentrated on her surrounding rather than a visitor. Numerous machines were around her, some working, some shut off. The room was white and impersonal, the smell antiseptic and she hated it already. Sighting she shifted her weight. A sharp pain sparked through her ribs and leg. She hissed and reached for the sheets to lift it and looked at her left leg. It was covered from foot to knee in a plaster cast. Ziva cursed quietly. She knew what that meant. No walking, bed rest or wheelchair for half an eternity. She couldn't decide what was more despicable. Drawing her eyes from the leg, she looked down at the rest of her body. It seemed to be more bandage than skin. She shuddered.

Soon a female doctor came and checked her over and had a look on some of the machines as well. The whole time she talked quietly to her, explaining what she was doing. She was competent, friendly and not pitying her but Ziva felt highly uncomfortable when she stood too close and soon had enough of her probing and pressing in her skin, bandage or casts. The doctor seemed to notice her unease and left after short time.

A few minutes later a nurse brought a tray with food and a load of pills for her to swallow. Ziva did it reluctantly under her vigilant watch. The food was some soup with a small piece of soft bread and a fruit salad. It wasn't much but after plain rice and sometimes bread it could as well be a lavish feast. Despite the nurse's warning ('Please eat slowly') the only thing that slowed her down was her broken wrist.

After she finished her stomach hurt but she was still hungry. To distract herself, she continued to inspect the room. Next to her on the bedside table laid a mobile phone and a written message.

 _If you want to contact some friends_

Ziva picked it up and was halfway dealing Tony's number before she stopped. No, she had accused him of cold blooded murder, she had hurt him, had not explained anything, she had withheld information about Michael, forced Gibbs to choose between them…

The phone revealed it was the 24th of August that means she had not contacted them for _months_. Of course, it had been impossible she knew that, but _they_ didn't. What if they had moved on and did not want to deal with her again? But no, Gibbs would understand, wouldn't he?

Ziva gathered all her courage and dialed Gibbs' number.

 _Duud… duud… duud… duud…_ it was answered at the fourth ring.

 _Gibbs._ The gruff voice was still the same.

"Gibbs… it is Ziva…"

Silence… _Ziva!?_

She bit her lip. "Yes."

 _You're alive? You survived the Damocles?_

She blinked. "I did – yes. How do you know about that?"

 _We had not heard from you too long. We started our own investigation._

They had looked for her. Even after… She felt even guiltier.

 _What happened, Ziva?_ Now he sounded worried.

Ziva took a deep breath. "I… we got off the ship before it sank. Then… I was captured in Somalia by… the man I was to kill. Later, another terror cell… _claimed_ me. On their way back, Mossad ambushed them and found me." Her heartbeat raced after the short recall.

 _Are you hurt?_

"I am fine," she deflected.

 _Ziva_.

She bit her lips again. "Some broken bones and bruises. Perhaps an infection."

 _Where are you?_

"Tel Aviv. In some hospital."

 _Find it out which on, then tell me. We are coming._

Indefinable emotions rose in her. Guilt, happiness and a whole lot more. Still, she did not want to be a burden. "Gibbs, you do not need to…"

 _Don't you argue with me! We'll be there tomorrow._

"Thanks" she whispered.

 _Take care._

 **oOo**

 _She is outnumbered and shoved to the ground, the weight of multiple men suffocating her. They press her head to the uneven dirt floor and small stones scratch her cheek. The sit on her arms and legs, on her back and a choked scream comes out of her throat as hot stabbing pain pulsates from her ribs._

She woke wide eyed.

 **oOo**

It revealed much of Ziva's physical condition that she did not notice Malachi coming inside. Exhaustion, stress and injuries of the last months finally took their toll.

Malachi waited almost one hour before he decided to come back later. Her voice stopped him before he could open the door. "Malachi." It sounded husky and surprised.

He spun around. "Ziva. How are you?"

Ziva shrugged her shoulders and winced in pain instantly.

"Ziva!" Malachi hurried over.

She flinched, and a hint of panic appeared in her feature before she managed to control it.

Malachi froze. His shoulders slackening, he sat down on a chair. "I… I wanted to apologize, Ziva." He looked up to her and she couldn't read his expression.

"I should never have left you go on alone… It's my fault. You were alone and then captured and I can't imagine what…" He swallowed. "And now we owe it to chance alone that you were found… I'm so sorry, Ziva."

.

Later Amit Hadar came in with a young man – almost a boy – on his heels.

"It is good to see you awake, Ziva. How are you?"

Irritation flickered in her eyes. "You all keep asking that. Don't you have another line?"

Hadar smiled. "Ziva, still full of fire."

He put his hands on the shoulders of the boy. "This is Benji Silberstein, my protégé. He was the one who found you."

The boy avoided looking at her bandages. „I am glad you are better, Officer David."

"Ziva." She answered, "and… thank you."

Hadar dropped a bag on a chair next to her bed. "Your father sends you this. Some books and clothes and I don't know what else. Have a look yourself."

 **oOo**

 _She is alone. Trapped in the small room, left waiting for someone to come. Sometimes she hears them passing outside, their footsteps heavy. Every time she tenses, hoping they won't stop, hoping they won't come in. The past weeks have taught her to fear the door opening._

 _For them it's amusing, funny even, to hit at the door while passing and every bang makes her recoil, never knowing if they come inside. Their laughter is an indicator, but she does not trust it completely. She trusts nothing and nobody here, not even herself. She knows what her future holds: pain and humiliation and betrayal and death._

 _Most times she is alone, alone with herself as only company and she increasingly can't stand herself anymore. Sometimes she wonders if the maddening guilt-ridden thoughts might outrace the terrorists in terms of breaking her._

She woke up to loneliness.

 **oOo**

The next morning Ziva was nervous to the core. Her team would come today, her _former_ team to say the truth. Beside Gibbs, who would come? The inner team probably, so Tony and McGee. Abby? Perhaps. Ducky? Jimmy? Did they still consider her part of them? Was she still a friend? (They wouldn't fly halfway around the world if she was nothing to them, right?) They had not forgotten her, no, Gibbs said they had looked for her. Still, was their memory of her filled with friendship or did it consist of shattered trust and intentional or unintentional misunderstandings? Had they looked for her out of duty or out of concern? Gibbs had sounded worried, though. He had asked about her injuries. Although she couldn't suppress the rising warm feeling completely, Ziva balled the fist of her good hand. Even Gibbs had immediately thought of her as hurt. They would see her as a victim, a frigging helpless _victim_ , she thought bitterly. Hell, whole Mossad must see her as one. They had saved her – no, they had _found_ her – and now hand-picked doctors treated her and everything they diagnosed, every wound, every broken bone, _everything_ would eventually land on her father's desk and who knew where else. And worse, they would interrogate the surviving terrorists. All _they_ knew would increase the stack of papers about her. All that couldn't be derived from her physical injuries. How they spat at her, how they called her a dirty Jew, how they degraded her, how she cried as they intentionally broke her leg after she got hold of a gun, shot one of them, injured another and tried to escape. Mossad would learn everything, would dug into intimate details, disregarding her will. At the same time, she felt guilty for being angry at them. Would she rather be at the mercy of Al Hari? If they had not found her…

While the morning passed by, her tension increased, and the room started to feel like a prison. The nurses and doctor mostly chose to ignore her temper and went on in their routine, only offered her a ride in the wheelchair through the secured inner courtyard. Ziva accepted it grudgingly. The room and the thoughts were driving her up the wall.

The call to Gibbs yesterday had exhausted her but it was nothing compared to waiting for their arrival. Ziva sat in the bed, hands around a randomly picked book, in which she had not read one line. Seconds became minutes and minutes became hours, but the time seemed to slow down. She felt like a nervous wreck.

Finally, the door opened.

And the tense silence was shattered by their words and hugs and cries and laughs.

Her team. Her family.

* * *

 _Did I mention I like reviews? :)_


	3. Team time

_Thank you **Alicori** , **Hetwaszoietsals** , **Debbie, BKeh** and my two **Guests**_

 _Guys, you are great! I'm very happy for every review no matter how short it is, especially if you write me about what you think of the story or what you like in it._

 _As you asked, here's the next part._

* * *

.

 **Coincidence**

 **Team time**

 _The day Mossad ambushed the terrorists._

Eli watched Terrorist No 2 through the mirror. Until their identities were confirmed they got only numbers. The man had his hands cuffed, additionally another cuff connected his ankle to the chair.

He did not seem to be frightened or even concerned; instead he displayed a façade of boredom. Normally Eli would let them wait for a few days to give their imagination the opportunity to conjure horrible future scenarios but this time they were lucky. Eli wanted answers. Now.

"Go inside" Eli ordered Officer Gheran who was chosen to interrogate this one, "let's see what he has for us."

No 2 looked up when Gheran entered.

He grinned. "Finally. Mighty Mossad decided to enter the game."

Gheran stayed calm and unmoving except tilting his head. "You think this is a game?"

"It is. The greatest game of all. That of life and death," he answered cockily.

"That means game over for you."

"Loose the battle, win the war. How's the little princess?"

"Who are you talking about?"

"Don't play stupid. Your miserable little assassin spy Zi-va."

Gheran leaned back, crossing his arms.

"You know, you really forgot to be 'professional' after you finally found her. You left us there, watching, I could see every detail. And I loved your faces when you lifted her out of the car. So shocked. It was hilarious, truly. A small compensation for that craven ambush. Why do I wonder? After all, you are cowards."

Gheran raised his eyebrow. "Then I suppose nine men against one bound woman, that's not craven?"

"She started attacking Saleem" he deflected quickly.

"So… you got Officer David from Saleem?"

"Saleem did like her _very_ much." Again, he was taunting. "Called her his feisty little spy. We did not see much of that, though. It took some force to convince him to hand his little prisoner over to us. He did not like losing her…"

"And Al Hari thought he could blackmail us, once you brought her to him?"

"You would not have been able to ignore this. Your princess is the perfect hostage. But don't think it's over. He will find another way to destroy you."

"Be so kind to tell me: How does he plan to do this? That will be a difficult and complex task. And it will take more than one hostage." Gheran slowed his speech as if speaking to a child, trying to provoke him.

No 2 only smirked arrogantly, not answering to the bait. "Tell me, where is Daddy David? Am I not important enough for him?"

"That is none of your business."

His grin turned vicious. "Is he visiting his darling daughter? She's still out I suppose. That was heavy stuff Khalid shot her up with. But she will survive it, unfortunately. After all, we had no intention to kill her. Alive she was much more valuable – and much more amusing…"

"Where is Saleem's camp?"

"You would like to know that, wouldn't you?"

"Tell me about your cell."

"We were alone." No 2 tried to lie.

Gheran only shot him a mocking look. "You just confirmed you belong to Al Hari."

Anger flashed on his face then he caught himself. "He was looking forward to meet your little spy."

"Where's his place?"

"He will avenge us. And he will make you pay for the loss of his prisoner."

"Where did the weapons come from?"

"From a place you will never know of. But there's one thing I want you to know: we tested them. On her. We tied her to a post and shot at her. Missing of course. As I said, we did not want to kill her. It was not as amusing as we hoped but seeing her fear while looking down the gun barrel and flinching at every shot was great as well."

That day's interrogation was not resulting in anything.

 **oOo**

 _Present time_

Gibbs sipped his third coffee and looked over to his team.

Abby was currently seeking comfort in McGee's arms, overwhelmed by her feelings. She had talked a mile a minute, cried and laughed almost at the same time and now she looked strained, emotionally exhausted, black mascara all over her face. In his endless patience McGee took care of her, said the right things at the right time and provided a steady body to hold onto. In her exuberance she had first tried to cling to Ziva, thrilled and joyous to see her again but Ziva had recoiled, almost panicked, her whole being screaming 'no' and 'stay away' and 'don't touch me' in all but volume. After that Abby's mood had swung to the opposite, sadness and horror about what her friend must have faced made her sob desperately.

In contrast to that, Tony had brooded quietly, eyes never leaving Ziva's small form. He seemed unsure, indecisive about their relationship and Ziva had not helped to clear that at all. She had whispered a nervous 'Hello' and her usual 'I am fine' – no one believed her – otherwise she seemed content to listen to Abby's rambling and avoided eye contact. Nevertheless, she _had_ relaxed slightly; the tenseness her body had been trapped in when they entered the room had decreased. Hope was not lost.

McGee was just himself, helpful and attentive. Sometimes Gibbs wondered if Timothy McGee was the only sane one on his team.

Tony was still suffering silently in his chair on the other side of the hospital bed, his face dark.

Ziva, the reason for this chaos of emotions in his team laid there motionless, pale and thin and evidently dead tired. Still she refused to sleep, fought against it. Her eyelids kept falling slowly until she opened them again, blinking.

Finally, the eyes stayed closed and Gibbs sighed and relaxed in his stand.

"I want at least one of you here all the time, understood? I'll go find a doctor and inform Ducky."

 **oOo**

 _Two men are holding her in between them, their grip firm. Another one behind her ties a rope around her neck, the longer end of it is falling over her shoulder to the ground. He picks it up, holds it like a leash. He is telling the men to 'Let her go' and that he 'has her'. To prove it he pulls hard at the rope causing her to lose balance and she's stumbling backwards, towards him. Using the momentum – hate keeps her moving – she spins around and grips the rope, taking the pressure off her neck. A sharp tug and the rope is out of his hands and now_ he _is losing balance. She holds the rope, still attached to her neck, in both hands and lunges to strangle him._

 _In a matter of seconds, the two others have her on her knees, the rope out of her hands and back in his and he is pulling her head backwards, the rope digs painfully into her throat, right under her chin. The ceiling is dirty, she notices absently, willing her mind to shut down but it's not working, it's just not working, the prospect of what is about to come is too severe. They tie her hands and parade her through the camp, call her a dog which belongs kept on a leash, laughing, laughing all the time._

She woke up crying from humiliation.

 **oOo**

 _How is she, Jethro?_ Ducky's familiar voice came out of the speaker.

"I don't know, Duck. Physically she's bad but it will heal, the doc said. Broken bones and bruised skin and organs, sexually assaulted, dehydrated, starved and everything. She looks bad, Duck.

 _Oh my dear girl._ Ducky sounded gravely appalled. _Anything permanent_?

"Doc says no."

 _Thank God. And how is she feeling?_

"She does not talk, not much at least, she's just…" Gibbs sank down on a bench and rested his head on his free hand. "Do you remember PFC Joanna Fing? It was an eternity ago however… she just looks like her."

 _Young Joanna committed suicide if I remember correctly. Do you fear for Ziva to do the same?_

"You're the doctor, Duck. You tell me." Yes, the thought had crossed his mind.

 _There's no way I can determine this from here. However, Miss Fing was alone after a terrible incident, no close friends and an uncaring family. Ziva is not alone, you are there for her so make sure she knows that._

"Half a year ago I would have laughed at anyone considering that. She's so different now."

 _That's not surprising, Jethro. Captivity is enormously stressful, and I don't want to imagine what atrocities she had to been submitted to._

Ducky hesitated then asked _does she look at you, acknowledge your presence?_

"Yes, sure, she's not _absent_ but I don't know what to do with her, she's hurting and so _fragile_ and I'm worried for her but still, I need some answers and I don't know how to get them without spooking her."

 _The trust issue, Jethro? Are you sure now is the right time for that?_

Only silence answered.

 _Well then… get her away from the others, make her as comfortable as possible and then speak with her. Perhaps it helps both of you to get past this. However, Jethro…_

His voice became urgent: _remember she's vulnerable, so be gentle and careful, she might not be able to counter your standing as she would usually. Don't give in to the temptation to talk her down._

 **oOo**

 _"Saleem! Stop it!" The sharp command cracks the hot air and the heavy, steel-caped boots stop kicking her. She almost sobs out of relief. He started as usual with insults and punches to the face and upper body, alternating actions and questions. After he got tired of that, the questions decreased instead he pulled out his knife but that did too much damage without giving him opportunity to vent so he started kicking aimlessly._

 _Now he towers above her, facing her, unmoving but furious, his hands are balled to fists. Then he spins around. One of the strangers stands behind him, backed up by three others she also does not recognize._

 _"You're NOT ordering me about what to do with MY prisoner!"_

 _"Yes I do,_ Saleem _." His voice is firm. "He needs her alive. You will leave now." Saleem does not move and the men behind the stranger shift their weight, hands on their weapons._

 _"I never thought you this low." Saleem hisses. "Go take the bitch then and run back to your master." He looks down at her broken, pain-twisted form with uncaring eyes and storms out._

 _Her vision begins to fade._

 _"Saïd, check if he has done something life threatening."_

 _Someone approaches, forces her arms away to touch her head, her neck, her throat. She hears an unnerving low whimpering and it takes some time for her to understand the strange noise is originating from herself. She stops. Then the man starts to pry her open from her fetal position and the pain from that is just too much._

She woke up panting and whimpering.

 **oOo**

Gibbs and DiNozzo stayed the night, stretched out in the comfortable cushioned armchairs the hospital provided – at least in this upper class, extra secured part of it. They doubted this kind of chair was to be found in the public section. Ziva slept most of the time, barely moving. In the middle of the night she suddenly started turning and they heard choked sounds, then foreign words –Hebrew? Arabic? While they still looked at each other, unsure if they should intervene, the choked sounds turned into crying. And they tried to wake her, to comfort her, to hold her but even half sleeping she was not reacting well to that – not at all, so they stayed back, helpless, until she fell asleep again.

The next day started slowly. McGee and Abby came around early in the morning, determined in their quest to keep Ziva occupied and distracted from her memories.

"You're coming home with us, yes?" Abby suddenly asked.

There was a kind of longing in her eyes. They hushed to Gibbs and Tony and McGee, but she only swallowed and stayed silent.

Abby seemed confused but adapted quickly and started to talk about the newest adventure with her bowling nuns, the new French restaurant that had opened in her neighborhood and how Major Mass Spec had ditched her a few weeks ago, because – as Abby told with conviction – he was proud and needed some praise here and there.

Gibbs, trademark coffee in his hand – an excellent one, by courtesy of the hospital, stood in the door, observing the room. Ziva sat on her bed leaning on the pillows and listening to Abby's stories. Her face was slightly turned towards her, the rest of her body strait. DiNozzo and McGee sat on her other side. She does not want to turn her back to anyone, Gibbs thought. _Observe your opponent, discover their weakness, keep in mind there they are at any time_. How many of her training rules she suppressed in D.C. were resurrecting now? He wondered if she had a gun or knives hidden somewhere. Should he check under her pillow before she'll kill someone accidentally?

Ziva was very anxious about distance and touches. Shaky as soon as someone was too close and did not accept touches by anyone but the female doctor, one of the nurses and sometimes Abby. Even then she tenses.

"McGee. Come over here." He gestured to another chair at the foot end of Ziva's bed. "DiNozzo. You look like crap. Go to your room and get some sleep."

"I'm not leaving Boss." Tony said determined.

"Yes you are, DiNozzo. You're no help here in that state. You're up almost 48 hours now. Get some sleep before I _make_ you sleep."

Tony left grudgingly, looking at Ziva. "I'll be back soon," he promised. Gibbs followed him out.

When he returned, McGee had his newest book out, reading to the girls in his quiet, comforting voice. Gibbs listened silently, noticing that McGee seemed to skip some parts of the story here and there. Very considerate. He was proud of his young agent.

 **oOo**

 _They have tied her hands to the railing of the jeep and she is standing next to it while the men enjoy the break and have something to eat. Without the steady dust cloud from the moving cars, the air is clean but hot._

 _She keeps close to the jeep for the sake of its shade, her back to the men. Her eyes fix the rough rope around her wrists, right at her head's height and she slowly rests her forehead against it. Her mind is focused on the men._

She woke up tense and fearfully.

 **oOo**

Something woke her. A soft clicking. The door? Or had she dreamed that? Ziva looked around. She was alone, a rare sight since Gibbs, Tony, McGee and Abby had arrived. McGee's soft reading was still in her mind. She must have fallen asleep in the middle of it.

Again, the clicking sound. Yes, it was the door, Ziva thought and turned her head to it. It opened slowly, and a figure tried to sneak inside silently. He stopped upon seeing her looking at him.

"Ziva. You're awake." Tony said surprised but warmly.

"G'd morning Tony." She replied shyly.

On the inside, Tony suddenly grinned wildly like a madman. She talked again, to him, said his name. He almost bounced to the chair.

Ziva tilted her head and looked at him questioningly. "You look different. What happened?"

"Well, Sleeping Beauty, while you were… away, I realized something."

"And what?" _Sleeping_ _Beauty_? She was not sleeping this much!

"That apparently, I couldn't live without you."

She could not decide if he was teasing or if his smile betrayed sadness. "So, what did you do?" Guilt clouded her voice.

"Drank myself almost stupid until Gibbs washed my head - literally. No, no," he deflected, "that's not your fault. After Gibbs told us of the sinking of the Damocles and your… _death_ I just… regretted never telling you. That we never really talked and then Rivkin… What did you see in him anyway, Zee-vah? He was an arrogant, manipulative, drinking idiot!"

"He was not in the beginning, Tony," Ziva said sharply, "and I would appreciate if you keep your biased point of view to yourself."

"Sorry, Ziva." He apologized. "That was out of place. Still, what did you see in him?"

"Why are you so interested in Michael?" Her voice was almost defensively.

"Maybe I just want to know what he had but I not?"

Again, she couldn't decide if he was joking. After thinking for a second she decided to answer. "He was Mossad, Tony." Oh yes, he was, through and through.

"Meaning you need some big evil spy guy?"

"No," she answered harshly, "meaning he knew where I came from, understood my past and way of life. I have done things I am not proud of, Tony. But he is from the same world, a world you do not know and one I don't want you to know of."

"I don't care about your past mistakes, Ziva. I care about you now. Not Assassin-Ziva but Investigator-Ziva, Team-Ziva. People can change. The past may be unmoving, but you can come back with us, start anew. Who cares about your past? Leave it behind you."

* * *

 _That was some team time for you to read..._

 _I'd be happy for some reviews!_

:)


	4. Fathers and daugthers

_**Hetwaszoietsals** , thank you, I'm really happy you like it! _

_That would be an interesting storyline **, BKeh**! However, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Saleem won't be stupid enough. He knows he couldn't win against Al Hari, that why he surrendered Ziva even if he had the numbers._

 _To **Debbie** and **Athenalarissa:** Their relationship will get better. However, this story will end soon and therefore won't be long enough to have a full TIVA in it, but I hope you still like it and continue to read the rest :)_

 _Dear **Guest** , here is the next chapter like you requested. Do you mind telling me what you like in my story? :)_

 _As the title suggest, this chapter deals mostly with Gibbs/Ziva/Eli because I love their relationship_

* * *

.

 **Coincidence**

 **Fathers and daughters**

"You go. Stroll through the city or back to the hotel rooms, I don't care. Ziva, we will go for a walk." Gibbs voice told them he meant business and they left without another word. Ziva looked up to him nervously but did not object. The others disappeared, and he came closer, pushing the wheelchair to the bedside. Ziva breathing fastened and he noticed she trembled slightly.

"Ziver," he said quietly. "I will just help you in the wheelchair, nothing more, ok?"

She nodded quickly. "I know Gibbs." She tried to relax. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize for that." He held out his arm, let her initiate the first contact then lifted her in the wheelchair carefully.

Her body was stiff. Gibbs knew that she fought to suppress showing any evidence of the pain she was undoubtedly feeling due to the movement. An outsider may not have noticed but it took full five minutes until her posture softened marginally and the pain either decreased or she got used to it. She was still tense, though. Was she anticipating the topic of their talk or was it because he was walking behind her, out of her line of sight?

He drove her down to the hospital garden and stopped next to a bench in the shade of a few trees. Slowly stepping around her he sat down.

"We need to talk, Ziva. You want to come back?"

Ziva nodded shyly. "If you… I would like to. I don't want to stay here."

"I may not talk about it, but I do care for you a lot, you know that, yes?" He looked at her sincerely and she nodded hesitantly, apprehensive of the 'however'-part.

"Do not forget that, Ziver. You're important to me, to all of us. Still, there are a few things we must address first. Your father's a damn idiot, Ziva, and I'm aware he probably messed with you from quite a young age on. However, you are responsible for your own actions. You said on that tarmac that you need to be able to trust the people you work with and the same goes for me."

Gibbs leaned in, his voice deadly serious. " _You_ did not inform me about Rivkin, _you_ kept quiet about your orders to kill your brother to gain my trust and _you, Ziva David_ , you alone pressed a loaded gun to Tony's chest."

Ziva looked as if he had struck her. During his speech she had lowered her eyes, avoiding his gaze.

Gibbs waited to give her time to answer but she kept looking at her hands, silent.

"Ziva, talk to me." She couldn't believe how _concerned_ he still sounded.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, fighting to keep the tears at bay. "Michael… I _trusted_ him, and I did not want to accuse him wrongly. I waited too long, couldn't believe it… And Tony, I was so _angry_ at everyone and he just stood there… but Gibbs, I would never have shot him, you must believe me."

Her eyes were pleading now. Gibbs felt like a bastard but went on. "Ari and your orders concerning his death and me?"

She bit her bottom lip, fingers on her broken wrist and shoulders hunched. "How do you know about that?" she choked out.

"Does it matter, Ziva?"

"I was ordered, yes," she admitted.

"He was your brother!"

"You think I don't know that?" Ziva retorted, desperation in her voice. "I never had the intention to do it. I did not believe it. I volunteered for it only to protect him, was determined to help him escape. Ari was my brother. My protector, always. But I did not recognize him in your basement. I shot him only to save an innocent. You. My father's orders had nothing to do with it, please, you must believe me. He was furious when I reported not me, but you had killed him. Something about now Mossad is standing in your debt instead of the other way around. What Ari had said about him was suddenly… – that is why I applied for the liaison post, away from him. And I was right to do so. The moment I came back he sent me away. First Morocco and this time…" She stopped, breath catching, eyes wild.

Gibbs looked at her closely. _Don't talk her down while she's vulnerable_ he heard Ducky whispering. He expected an answer similar to what she'd said. And although _being_ _angry_ did not excuse assaulting your partner _with a gun_ , Gibbs believed her about not pulling the trigger. Ziva might be trigger happy sometimes – often – and her anger has always burned hot, but Gibbs wouldn't deny her a second chance. That talk served its purpose anyway, it emphasized the severity of that act. She won't do it again.

Now his agent was hurting, and he might be a bastard sometimes, but he won't abandon her. Gibbs reached for her good hand slowly and she did not pull away. Instead she clawed her fingers around his hand, her nails digging painfully into his skin. She sniffled, losing control.

"It's ok, Ziver… it will be fine." He slowly and carefully extended his arms around her shoulders, stroking the back of her head and held her as she finally cried consciously for the first time in years out of emotional pain, not physical one.

 **oOo**

 _A rather large knife twirling in his hand he comes closer and cuts the cable tie around her wrists. She covers the red tender skin at the right hand – the left is slightly better – with her other hand. He points at her with the knife. "Take off your shirt." She does not react, eyes fixed on a spot behind him. "Take it off_ ," _he repeats threateningly, "or my men will gladly help you with it."_

 _Yes, she can imagine that. In her mind she sees them already, sneering and insulting._

 _Still she remains unmoving. Do it once and they have won. The result won't be different, and she still has some pride left. She may not be able to hold him off, but she won't participate in any way._

She woke up trembling.

 **oOo**

The next day Eli David visited for the first time since Gibbs came with his team. Eli did not even spare them a glance.

"Ziva. You look much better. We finished with the interrogation of the terrorists you were with. They are about to stand trial. Do you want to see them before we give them over to court?"

"Only if I'm allowed to kill them." Ziva said flatly.

Eli smiled. _That's my Ziva_. Unfortunately, he couldn't allow that.

"I'm afraid you're in no condition to do so, Zivaleh." He waved his hand in a general gesture towards her mangled body, his smile disappearing.

"I could always shoot them. Or throw some knives." Ziva objected, matter-of-factly. Her voice turned malicious. "Missing them a few times, then graze them and when they are crying for their mothers slice them somewhere it hurts and watch them bleed out slowly." There was blood thirst in her voice. Gibbs looked to his team and saw they were taken aback, McGee looked outright shocked, Abby's eyes where wide open and almost bulging out of her head. He remembered the time Ziva was new to NCIS. She'd been fierce as well but not this vengeful. But hell, he did not know what she had experienced.

.

Gibbs left shortly after Eli and followed him. He caught up on him in front of the elevators. They were alone in the corridor.

" _Agent Gibbs_. What do you want?" Eli asked impatiently and rather impolite.

"Why did you not tell us of Ziva's disappearance?" Gibbs didn't try to hide his animosity.

"My daughter is not of your NCIS anymore and was none of your concern."

"Cut the crap. You knew Ziva's important to us."

"She _is_ , Gibbs, or she _was_?" He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Ah, forget it. Even if we had told you: You could have done nothing for her."

"We would have tried. We already looked for her. As any decent man would do for his own. But you don't agree with that concept, _Director_?" Gibbs's voice was icy.

Their mutual dislike was as obvious as it had never been before.

Eli's voice rose as well. "She was presumed dead and her whereabouts unclear. I carry responsibility for things you can't even imagine. I cannot risk the lifes of many for a futile and unpredictable rescue mission."

"Bullshit. You just left her. Did you even _try_ to find her?"

" _You_ left her first as I remember." Eli countered viciously, and Gibbs fought to suppress the overwhelming need to hit him physically. How _dare_ he to compare that? Eli leaving her with the terrorists, not knowing if she was dead or a prisoner of war was no way comparable to seeing her ultimatum at the tarmac as what it was: a choice to stay. To find herself again and to find out what she really wanted and that it was _not_ Tony she was angry with.

"Ziva chose to stay. I respected that." He managed to control himself, but his voice was steel.

"Still you left without her. Feeling guilty now?" That hit home.

"We did not forget her." Gibbs pressed out through clenched teeth.

"Neither did I!" Eli roared.

"You have one hell of showing that!"

"I don't need advice in being a father from _you_ , Gibbs. It's not like you've much practice in that."

"Don't you dare bring in Kelly!" Gibbs hissed furiously.

They stared at each other neither of them willing to back down.

"I want her back." Gibbs finally said resolutely.

"Ziva is Mossad." _Ziva is mine._

"You don't give a damn about her."

"You seem to think you've got some kind of claim on her. I wonder why? It is not like _you_ rescued her. _We_ did." Eli was smug now.

"Will you think just once in your life about what's best for Ziva?"

 **oOo**

 _The food is bad – at least that is what they say. Not that Ziva would know it. Apparently, the travel food with its lack of diversity, of meat and spices is annoying them. Ziva sits with her back to them, anger burning lowly while she thinks of that one slice of plain bread she got and how she longs to have some more._

 _Resentment is rising as Khalid dismisses their complains but he's the boss and bad food is not enough to incite a riot so four of the most ill-tempered men find an easier target for their frustration._

 _After all, it is her fault, isn't it? They are here for the Mossad princess._

 _They have her down on the ground, kicking her until she is lying on the back and one of them settles his booted foot on her throat, pressing down. She gasps for breath, horrified by the choking sensation, the pain and the intense_ need _for air. Her lungs are burning. She wants to bring up her hands around his leg, push it away but her arms are weak, and she only manages to move it a tiniest bit. She sucks in air, it is not enough. Her vision clouds but she still can see the men looking down on her, disgust and hate in their eyes._

She woke up gasping for air.

 **oOo**

Two days later, Eli David walked inside the hospital room as if he owned the place, two men right behind him.

"I want to speak to my daughter. Leave the room." He announced to Abby and McGee. The authority in his voice was impressive, McGee thought and against his better judgment he felt like he must comply. Luckily Abby did not seem to be affected by it and that stopped him as well. She rose from her chair, hands fidgeting in the air. "You listen to me Mister David, we only leave if Ziva wants us to. It was hard enough when Gibbs told us she died and then all was crazy and sad and Tony was so strange and Gibbs was even grumpier than usual but we had work do to and cases and the people needed us and we tried to give them their justice but we couldn't for Ziva that's why we looked for this Saleem-guy and I know we would have found him, _I would have found him_ but before we could do so, she called and why do I tell you all this, because you wouldn't understand but we won't leave her, that's…

"Abby." Ziva's soft voice stopped her. "It's fine."

"Okay… you're sure?" Abby was rather skeptical.

Ziva nodded slowly and showed her a small thankful smile.

They were retreating to the door when Ziva addressed her father. "Your… _companions_ will leave as well."

Eli nodded, and the two inscrutable men joined them outside, watching them like a hawk would look at field mice.

Inside Ziva pushed herself in a sitting position and leveled her eyes on her father.

"Very impressive. You inspire quite some loyalty, don't you, Ziva?"

"What do you want?" Ziva was not in the mood for niceness. And she felt absolutely no obligation to pretend being good tempered and friendly for him.

Her back hurt, her leg throbbed, her skin itched and it was dreadfully _boring_ to lie in the bed for days on no end. Body and mind betrayed her, recoiling involuntarily even from her team. Every move hurt her ribs, the hospital surrounding drove her mad and she was so tired and craving to escape her thoughts but feared to sleep because of nightmares. Sometimes she wondered if she would not be better off if dead. Still, she would not allow herself to reveal the discomfort to anyone, especially not her father.

"The topic of your future came up."

Ziva sighted. It was inevitable, apparently. Think of death and the future knocks at your door.

"I want you back with Mossad, Ziva, as soon as you are healed."

"So you can send me on another suicide mission?"

"Do not act this melodramatic. It does not suit you."

The anger gave her the power to voice the next sentences. "I came back from NCIS two times. In Morocco I only survived because the explosion was in public. This time… it was pure coincidence. So please, _Director_ , tell me what you have planned for this time. I'd love to know where I will die exactly, when my luck finally runs out."

Eli pressed his lips together to control the angry words.

"Fine, _Ziva_ , so what do you want?" Irritation swung with the words.

"I do not want to stay here."

"You want to run back to America?" He scoffed.

Ziva shot him an angry look.

"I do not want you there, Ziva. They have made you soft and weak."

"So that is what you are thinking of me?" Ziva asked, unable to hide the hurt. " _I am not weak_. You have no idea how it was."

"I have read and listen to them to know enough, Ziva."

Knowing they had lost, the three surviving terrorists were rather free-spoken regarding his daughter. They were less generous about other information Mossad wanted to gain, like Saleem Ulman or Al Hari, their supporters, the origin of the transported weapons or plans of terror attacks but volunteered constantly snippets about their Mossad prisoner, provoking the present interrogators. Primarily the two younger men were bold. It was their last chance of boasting and trying to hurt their interrogators and they made good use of it. One of them was especially brutal in his descriptions. Mocking and grinning proudly he wouldn't stop to describe the countless humiliation acts as well as physical and sexual violence. Eli did not interrogate them himself, but he watched all of it, barely controlling his anger, especially while that young man behaved beyond endurance, picturing graphically so many atrocities. They let him speak at first, hoping he would reveal something of interest but after an especially bloody description of a beating and the following rape the two interrogators lost their patience. They forced him down in the same position holding him the same painful way he just bragged about – he whimpered lowly – and threatened: if he would even name only _one more_ violation of Officer David without being asked they would do the _exact_ same thing to him. After that threat his boldness decreased rapidly but his attitude and feeling of superiority was still hard to tolerate. He just shifted his boasting away from physical encounters, instead concentrated more on how weak she had been, how they mocked her and how his daughter _cried_.

"You have no idea." Ziva repeated, face closed up.

"You are better with us, Ziva."

"I do not want to."

"If it helps you, I can offer that I am not sending you on any mission you do not approve."

"Why can't you just let me go?"

"Ziva." He sat down next to her. "I thought you dead somewhere in Somalia. I mourned you in silence. And then, out of nowhere, you showed up unconsciously but _alive_ in the trunk of a Hamas car, here in Israel. You survived everything they had done to you and then you survived the ambush. I read the reports, they shot recklessly at the cars. None of them remained uninjured, 6 out of 9 died… It would have been so easy to get you killed in that car as well. If I think about this… them searching the cars and finding you, just killed – by a Mossad bullet. Or by a car explosion. And if we had not ambushed them, Al Hari would be using you as hostage right now, no doubt trying to blackmail us and sending me gruesome pictures and videos of you. I would have been suspended as director until this _situation_ was over. Not able to do anything, forced to sit at the sideline and watch them handle it. Watch you getting killed in it for sure – again."

Ziva was not surprised about how much he had thought about possibilities and consequences. That was his job after all. However, she was astonished he actually told her about it.

She couldn't help herself to suspect some plot. She did not dare to trust him. Not completely at least.

"When Hadar called, saying they found you, I could not believe it. If anybody else had called I would have dismissed it as a cruel joke and the caller would now be thinking three times before doing something. I believed you dead somewhere in the desert, some anonymous bones never to be returned home. Ben-Gidon can consider himself fortunate that his broken clavicle prevented him from further field missions. I would have sent him on the most disgusting and dangerous mission available for letting you go on alone."

" _You_ sent us on. Even after the team was effectively down to Malachi and me. And he was injured." Ziva objected icily. She would not forgive him just because he said some sweet well-chosen words.

"I did not know he was injured that badly. He did not tell me. However, it was a mistake, I realize it. I was blinded."

"Never thought I would live to see the day you admit a mistake."

He shook his head. "I want you close Ziva."

 _You are the only family I have left_. He did not say it, these words would be too much out of character. The first part was unusual enough. Ziva watched him through narrowed eyes. Was it true? Did he really mean it or was he manipulating her again? She did not know. Her father had always hidden his motivations, kept his intensions incomprehensible.

She decided to play along. If he really tried to manipulate her, she could do so as well. He apologized – at least in some way without really saying it, he admitted a mistake. Now she had a free wish. She willed her face to soften. "I promise I will visit, Papa. But I can't stay here, please understand that."

* * *

 _Hope you like it._

 _Would be happy for some reviews..._


	5. Epilog

_I'm absolutely delighted about your reviews, thank you guys! Some of you pointed out they liked the way I describe their relationship and emotions. I'm very happy about it, I was worried about setting them up authentically, wondered if I could do it right. And a foreign language does not make things easier..._

 _ **Debbie**_ _,_ _ **Hetwaszoietsals**_ _,_ _ **DS2010**_ _,_ _ **Thalium**_ _,_ _ **Cathy Brown**_ _,_ _ **Guest**_ _and all anonymous readers please enjoy the last chapter._

* * *

 **Coincidence**

 **Epilog**

Ziva growled at the sight of the wheelchair. Actually _growled_.

"Come on, Zi!" Tony grinned, "unless you want me to carry you, that's your way out."

"Why can't I use crutches – oh yes, that's why!" Angrily she waved her splinted arm up in the air, the frustration carving deep lines into her face.

She pushes herself to the edge of the bed staring down at the wheelchair. Oh, how she hated it to be so helpless and depending on others. She couldn't even move from her bed to the wheelchair by herself because her leg was in the way, she couldn't bend her bandaged chest and pressure on her wrist was painful and forbidden anyway.

Tony watched her stare down the wheelchair and the small gap in between it and the bed, seeing the problem. She was too furious and probably embarrassed to ask for help, so he offered it. "Do you want me to fetch a nurse?"

"No," she said sullenly.

"Hey little ninja. Unless you beam yourself over there you gonna need help."

Ziva scoffed once more then looked up to him, biting her bottom lip. "Can you do it?"

Tony stared at her surprised. Did she just offer for him to touch her? "You're sure, Ziva?"

She looked nervous but nodded nonetheless.

Her breathing was shallow and fast when he slipped one arm under her legs and one behind her back. Feeling her tense up Tony cringed inwardly, pained by the thought of how badly they must have treated her. He slowly lifted her small body to the wheelchair, holding her tightly.

"Thanks" she said quietly, avoiding eye contact. Her posture relaxed.

"You're welcome, Ziva" he replied. He almost added 'I'm proud of you' but caught himself before embarrassing her further.

He rolled her to the door, almost colliding with Gibbs. And because he was Gibbs and Gibbs noticed everything he looked surprised to see them ready to go and shot Tony a silent question over Ziva's head. _She let you lift her in the wheelchair?_

Tony smiled triumphantly and nodded.

 **oOo**

A small airplane awaited them, as well as some men in black – Mossad men. They accompanied them like a strange guard of honor.

Gibbs prided himself on his ability to read other people's minds but this time it failed him. The Mossad men were easy, trying to be stoic but he could see pity, concern and even admiration in their faces. However, although he knew Ziva so well, he couldn't decide if she was annoyed, honored, angry or embarrassed while Tony rolled her through them. Eli David stood at the end. He did not look happy and did not try to hide it but at least he had come, Gibbs would grant him that.

"Goodbye Ziva. I await your visit. Remember your promise."

Ziva nodded stiffly. "I will."

He reached out awkwardly and lightly squeezed her tense shoulder. Then his face softened and he bent down slightly and added something in Hebrew.

Ziva's face stayed blank and she did not answer. Eli David stepped back from his daughter. Having watched the entire exchange like a hawk – not offering a friendly word or gesture to Eli – Tony was eager to get her to the waiting airplane.

Gibbs followed together with Abby and McGee.

The future would not be easy. There was heavy stuff to work through. Ziva might act like she was fine, and her act would undoubtedly become even more convincing in time, but he knew better. Right now, her physical limitations provided an easy target for her anger and frustration, but her body would heal long before she learned to live with the horrible memories. Therapy awaited her, and she would hate it. He also did not trust Eli not to interfere again. He might let Ziva go today but what if he changed his mind? Ziva was still his subordinate.

The aircraft turbines roared alive and the plane accelerated.

However, for now Leroy Jethro Gibbs contently looked around, seeing his whole team, his _almost-children_. Tony, Tim, Ziva and Abby. Everyone had a different personality, different strengths, was independent and at the same time not working without the others.

This was how it was meant to be.

"Let's go home."

.

 _Who can say where the road goes?  
Where the day flows?  
Only time  
And who can say if your love grows_  
 _As your heart chose?_  
 _Only time_

 _Who can say when the roads meet_  
 _That love might be in your heart?_  
 _And who can say when the day sleeps_  
 _If the night keeps all your heart,_  
 _Night keeps all your heart?_

 _Who can say if your love grows_  
 _As your heart chose?_  
 _Only time_  
 _And who can say where the road goes?_  
 _Where the day flows?_  
 _Only time_

 _Who knows?_

 _Only time_

From: _Only Time_ by Enya

.

* * *

 _Dear Readers, I deeply hope you are not too disappointed that I am ending the story here._

 _As I said before, I first planned 'Coincidence' as oneshot but your reviews encouraged me to continue. It was fun for me as well! I constantly change parts or ordered scenes anew, wrote more and deleted parts._

 _However, now I'm at the point where it will go "back to normal", surely a difficult and interesting process but one I could not imagine much different than others. All the healing stuff, Ziva overcoming her anxiety and so on has been written by many authors here and I don't feel I could do it better._

 _Thank you for reading!_

 _..._

If you are interested in more, I plan to publish an alternative (darker) version of this story soon. In it, Mossad does not find Ziva and her life follows a completely different path. Read about how this affects her life and her friends from NCIS as well as Eli David...


End file.
